


The Spark

by MysticMerc



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Beta Derek Hale, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Smut, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Spooning, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMerc/pseuds/MysticMerc
Summary: When two witches arrive in Beacon Hills in search of the Spark, it seems Derek is the only one who knows what they're talking about. Can Scott's pack save Beacon Hills from the witches or will they capture the Spark?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holymolars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holymolars/gifts).



> This was beta-d by passionyserenity (tumblr). Thank you for all of your help with grammar checks and plot ideas even though I was a little late to the party! This would never have been completed if it weren't for you!
> 
> Prompt: Stiles and Derek return to Stiles' place after a horrific night of fighting witches. Derek keeps insisting he stay up with Stiles to do further research on the witches, even though Stiles' is exhausted/thoroughly freaked after the evenings incident. They begin fighting, and at the spat's climax its revealed that Derek is just worried about Stiles after those witches, and wants to spend the night. Frustrated beyond belief at Derek's inability to communicate mixed with the low-grade trauma the night gave Stiles, he cries a little and takes an angry shower. He returns to find Derek looking stupid wearing his Batman pajamas, breaking the tension and getting a good laugh out of him. They sleep cuddled together in Stiles' bed, where Stiles begins to wonder how this is even happening. Derek subtly confesses (badly, he doesn't know how to say anything) how much Stiles means to him. They fall asleep in a happy heap. Include a lil smoochin' if you're feeling bold. (TBH - I was getting specific, but you can really take this however you want!)

His hands were trembling so much he could barely unlock the front door. As Stiles dropped the keys for the second time, a larger hand snatched them up and did the job for him.

“I had it,” Stiles grouched.

Derek huffed and pushed open the door. Stiles brushed past him, trying not to get any more blood on himself. The werewolf was covered in blood again, which seemed to be his normal state, but thankfully it wasn’t his own this time. One of the witches had grabbed Stiles by the throat and Derek had felt it was his duty to intervene. Violently.

Stiles found himself in his room without remembering walking up the stairs.

 _It’s probably the trauma_ , a voice in his head reasoned. _Your brain’s going offline so it can deal with it all._

He didn’t remember the drive home either which was slightly more concerning as he’d been the one driving. He peeled off his hoodie and glared at Derek who’d followed him inside.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Derek.”

The werewolf’s eyebrows merely twitched in reply. Stiles sat at his desk with his back hunched over his laptop. He needed to figure out what those witches wanted before things got out of hand.

“You need a shower.”

“You don’t smell too fresh yourself.”

“And sleep.”

“I said I don’t need a babysitter. Why’re you even here?” Stiles huffed, finally looking over his shoulder.

Derek was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed sullenly across his chest. His eyes scanned the room before settling back on Stiles. Everything he did always seemed so deliberate.

“I’m just keeping an eye on you.”

“You think just because I’m human, I need help?”

“I think you’re a danger to yourself on a good day, let alone when there’re murderous witches in town.”

“Oh, right, because I’m Clumsy Stiles. Stupid Stiles. Can’t even drive home on my own, can I?”

“I never said that.”

“No, you just _implied_ that I need to be supervised like I’m a fucking child.”

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. He could smell Stiles’ anger simmering beneath the anxiety. Anxiety was a fairly common scent for Stiles but after tonight… Well his stress levels were appropriately high.

“You’re vulnerable, okay, Stiles? You’re human for God’s sake!”

“What, you think just because I’m human I can’t take care of myself? I may not have freaky werewolf powers but I was doing _just fine_ until you came along, thanks.”

Again, Derek’s eyebrows answered for him. Stiles’ anger was only increasing and he wondered how much of this was his fault. If he hadn’t come back to Beacon Hills, Stiles wouldn’t even know about the supernatural. He’d be safe. And the sheriff. They’d both be safe.

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” he said firmly.

“Fuck you,” Stiles spat.

He stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind him, but stopped in the hallway at a loss. Now what? He lived here, he couldn’t exactly leave.

 _You need a shower,_ Derek’s voice in his head supplied.

Stiles grumbled and dragged himself into the bathroom.

_I hate it when he’s right._

Once Stiles had stripped himself of his dirty clothes and stood under the hot spray of the shower, he had to admit that he felt miles better. He could feel the stiffness in his muscles loosening and his anger towards Derek’s babysitting seemed to be diminishing. He ducked his head down to let the water rush over the back of his neck and shoulders, hissing slightly at the contact. Stiles watched the grime of the evening’s… events swirling down the drain and gently checked himself for bruises. His mind started to clear and, after a while, the sound of the shower faded into the very corners of his consciousness. It sounded just like rain.


	2. Chapter Two

_It was raining buckets when Scott finished work at the clinic so Stiles had volunteered to pick him up. He knew Scott could probably run home faster than he could drive but he didn’t want him to get wet. God, he was such a mother hen. As Stiles pulled up outside, he noticed the lights were switched off. His phone beeped with a message from Scott._

DONT come inside.

_Stiles nervously drummed his fingers against the steering wheel but stopped when he heard a loud crash from inside the building. He quickly grabbed his baseball bat from the passenger seat and ran towards the back door. He slowly pushed the door open and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before creeping in. He could hear more crashes near the main office. They sounded suspiciously like bodies being thrown against a wall._

_Stiles raised his bat and jumped into the main office only to see the front door swinging shut. The room was a mess but at least the mountain ash wood barrier hadn’t been broken. He gently pushed the gate open and peeked around the front door. He could see Scott crouched down low on the ground with his back to him. A loud roar erupted out of him and Stiles knew his eyes would be glowing red._

_He still couldn’t see who Scott was growling at so Stiles stayed inside where it was relatively safe. He strained his neck to try and see better and even his human ears were able to pick up the sound of answering howls. The rest of the pack would be here any moment. Stiles took that as his cue._

_He burst through the door just in time to see Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Derek run into the car park, fangs out and claws extended. Once he had a full view of the situation, his blood ran cold. Between Scott and the other werewolves stood two women, their hands clasped together and red dresses whipping in the wind._

_They were as different as two people could possibly be. One had smooth dark skin while the other was deathly pale and covered in freckles. One had brown hair while the other was blonde but both women looked as if they’d been living in the wild for months. They were as tall as Amazons and Stiles could feel an energy radiating from them, filling the air with static._

_“We’ve come for the Spark,” they said in unison, their voices loud and clear despite the rain._

_“You’re not taking anyone!” Isaac growled and ran forward._

_The fair-haired woman thrust her hand towards him and Isaac was thrown backwards. That’s when it all kicked off. The werewolves began to attack and Stiles found himself drawn into the fight. It all became a blur of claws and dirt and blood. One of the women ripped his bat out of his hands and he could hear the wood splintering as it smashed into the wall behind him._

_Stiles aimed a swift kick in retaliation but the dark-skinned witch grabbed him by the throat. His feet were lifted above the ground and he felt weightless. He couldn’t breathe. All he could feel was his lungs burning and the rain beating down on his face. He gasped for air but he could feel his consciousness fading._

_It was like he was drowning._


	3. Chapter Three

Derek paced Stiles bedroom and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to ease his aching muscles. He was exhausted after seeing the witches but didn’t want to let Stiles see how badly affected he was. The guy was already suffering enough from the night’s events.

He stopped his pacing to perch on the edge of Stiles’ desk and gently tilted his neck, producing a very satisfying cracking sound. Derek groaned softly and sighed. He strained his ears to hear if Stiles had finished in the shower yet. He could still hear the water running but he could also hear a short gasping sound. What was it? Derek could hear gasping and spluttering and… Stiles was hyperventilating. He’d heard him have panic attacks before.

Derek leapt straight off of the desk and ran to the bathroom. The door was locked but a little brute force soon forced it open. Stiles was curled up in a ball in the shower, gasping through tears. His face was pressed to the bottom of the tub which was slowly beginning to fill with water.

“Stiles? Stiles, are you alright?”

But he didn’t respond. It was as if he couldn’t hear him. As if he wasn’t really there. Derek started to worry that if he kept hyperventilating like that with the water streaming onto his face, Stiles might drown.

“Stiles! Come on, Stiles, wake up!”

Derek quickly shut off the shower and wrapped a towel around the boy’s quivering body. He lifted him out of the bath and gently shook his shoulders to try and provoke a response. Stiles was still gasping for air. Derek had no idea what to do. People weren’t his strong point. How do you even help someone in this situation?

“Come on, Stiles. Snap out of it!” he yelled, panic leaking through to his voice. “You’re OK, Stiles. I’m here and you’re OK.”

“D-Derek?”

“Jesus, Stiles. You scared me half to death,” Derek said softly.

Stiles tightened the towel around himself and shook his head sharply. He shook Derek’s hands off of his shoulders and stepped away from him.

“Yes, yes, alright. You saved me. Good for you. Now leave me to get dressed,” he grumbled.

Derek huffed and stalked back into Stiles’ bedroom.

“Ungrateful teenager… If he wants to get angry, that’s fine by me!” he muttered under his breath.

And he was in no way acting like a teenager when he slammed the door shut behind him. No sir.

* * *

 

Stiles heard his bedroom door slam and sunk down onto the edge of the bath. He quickly dried himself, his hands shaking as he was still recovering from the panic attack. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt from the wash basket and took a deep breath before heading back to his room.

The sight before him once he’d opened the door was so surprising, Stiles went stock still, then promptly doubled over with laughter. It racked through his whole body until tears sprang to his eyes. His stomach was aching with it.

“What on EARTH are you wearing?” he gasped.

Derek stood in the middle of the room wearing his bright blue batman pyjamas. The shirt buttons were straining over his broad chest and the ends of the trousers only reached mid-calf. Stiles had never noticed how hairy his legs were until now. Derek looked absolutely ridiculous!

Now that Stiles was really looking at him, he noticed how young Derek appeared all of a sudden. Nothing like the werewolf who threw a witch across a car park earlier that same evening. If he squinted, he could even be convinced that Derek was blushing.

“Shut up, Stiles,” he grouched.

Stiles attempted to control his giggling, or at least cover it up by pretending to cough. Silence descended. Derek shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking almost lost in Stiles’ bedroom. It was too… domestic.

“I, uh… I wanted to say thanks. For, um, helping me out when I was, uh…” Stiles muttered.

“I was only looking out for you. No big deal,” Derek shrugged.

“And, um. I’m… I’m sorry about what I said earlier, OK? I know you’re just trying to help. And I’m mean, it’s not your fault you’re a werewolf and I’m human. You can’t help having your wolfy powers just like I can’t help not having any. And if you didn’t have your powers, those witches probably would’ve killed me. You know, like ripped my throat out or something. No, that’s more werewolf style… They… They… They would’ve zapped me with their evil witchy… zappiness or something. Either way, I’d be dead as a doornail without you. A-and the other guys too. What happened to them anyway? Are they alright? I mean, Erica and Boyd are probably making out somewhere but the witches. What happened to them? They’ll be back, right? We’ve gotta figure out what they’re gonna do next. And what the hell the Spark is. We’ve gotta get to them before they can get to us…”

“Stiles, shut up and get into bed,” Derek sighed.

Stiles looked up and realised Derek wasn’t standing anymore. He was lying down in Stiles’ bed, the covers around his waist revealing the batman pyjamas. The sight of Derek freaking Hale in _his_ _bed_ stopped him short. Brain does not compute. So many different thoughts were running through his head, and none of them were funny.

“W-whatcha doin’ there, Der?” he stammered.

“We need to get some sleep before tomorrow. We’re going to meet up with the rest of the pack at mine to discuss these witches and you’ll need to be able to stay upright for that,” Derek said matter-of-factly.

“You’re in my bed.”

“Brilliant observation. Get in.”

Stiles hovered for a moment before his legs began to move of their own accord. When he reached the edge of the bed, Derek grabbed his arm and tugged him down. He manhandled him so that Stiles was lying with his back to Derek’s chest, pinned down by his arm over his waist.

“W-watcha doin’ there, Der?” he repeated.

“I’m being the big spoon. Go to sleep.”

Stiles could feel his heart pounding in his chest and knew that Derek could hear it. He tried to focus his breathing and adjust to this new arrangement. If he thought too hard about the way Derek’s arm felt around him or the warmth of his chest against his back, Stiles knew he’d go mad. And Derek was right. They needed to get some sleep. So this arrangement made sense, right? He felt so safe in Derek’s arms and, after all, he did like being the little spoon.


	4. Chapter Four

When Stiles woke up in the morning, Derek was in the shower.

 _At least you don’t have to talk to him about last night,_ a voice in his head supplied.

Stiles didn’t want to admit it but he’d had the best sleep ever last night. Even after everything that had happened, he had felt safe in Derek’s arms and had absolutely no trouble falling asleep. Well, after he’d gotten over how weird it was to have _Derek Hale_ in his bed.

Stiles slid out of bed and pulled on some clothes before heading downstairs. What did he do now? Make breakfast? Wait around for Derek? Either way, he didn’t have to wait for long as he could hear Derek walking down the stairs.

“Good. You’re up. Let’s go,” he said.

“What about breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day!” Stiles gasped theatrically.

Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles swore he sore his lips twitch into a smile.

“We’ll pick some up on the way.”

Stiles hastily scribbled a note to his dad and followed Derek to his jeep. They drove as if nothing had happened last night. Stiles began to wonder if last night had even happened. The… _cuddling_ that is anyway. Derek had even referred to himself as the ‘big spoon’ for Christ’s sake! It was all a little bizarre to say the least.

* * *

 

Stiles pushed open the door to Derek’s loft carrying the bags of breakfast goodies to find the rest of the pack already nestled in the living room. Derek followed close behind him and handed out the coffee he’d brought while Stiles unpacked the assortment of muffins and pastries.

He looked over his shoulder to see Lydia in the armchair, Scott, Allison and Isaac piled together on the floor and Erica lying on the sofa with her head in Boyd’s lap. They looked like they belonged there. Although, that only left Stiles and Derek with the (rather aptly named) loveseat. However, after last night, this should be a doddle.

Once the food was passed around and greetings were exchanged, all eyes drifted towards Scott. He sat up straight and Stiles could feel him settling into his alpha role despite being sat on the floor.

“Last night, two witches came into our territory. I know Derek has a better understanding of what our territory is but I know the animal clinic definitely belongs to our pack,” Scott said, his voice loud and clear, like a leader.

Derek grunted in response, confirming Scott’s words. Stiles noticed him lower his head as if to say he would share his knowledge once the alpha had finished speaking.

“Regardless of what proper protocol is in this scenario, the witches came at me with violence. Apparently, they’re searching for the Spark, whatever that might be. If the level of violence and determination we saw last night is any indication, they’re not going to use this Spark for good but we can’t fight their magic with sheer force alone,” Scott continued. “We need information.”

“I’d have started researching last night but _somebody_ forced me to go to sleep,” Stiles huffed. “I’ll get right onto finding out what this Spark is and collaborate with Deaton on figuring out how to stop the witches.”

Scott nodded and started to delegate tasks to the others. They started to bring Allison and Lydia up to speed on what happened last night and share theories about what the Spark could possibly be. Their ‘pack meeting’ had descended into their usual chit chatter when Derek suddenly spoke up.

“The Spark isn’t a ‘what’, it’s a ‘who’.”

He didn’t raise his voice but he was heard perfectly by the rest of the pack who shut up instantly. Stiles noticed Derek seemed to have that effect on them.

“Do you know who the Spark is?” Scott asked.

“I have a theory.”

“So what exactly is a Spark, Derek?” Lydia leaned forward in her seat.

“They’re very rare people who can access the earth’s magic.”

“Like the witches?” Isaac frowned.

“No. Witches and druids use magic by studying it and forcing it to do their bidding. Sparks work _with_ the magic. They act as a kind of tool for the magic to flow through so they can easily use it at will.”

Lydia leaned back again and rested her chin on her hand. Her lips puckered slightly and she crossed one leg over the other as she resumed her classic thinking pose.

“So, what, they wanna use the Spark as some kind of weapon?” Isaac growled.

Allison smoothed her hand over his knee in a calming gesture before looking up at Derek.

“You know exactly who the Spark is. Is it one of us?” she asked.

Derek nodded and took a large bite of the blueberry muffin in his hand. Stiles could see him stalling for time, thinking of what he was going to say next.

“It’s Stiles,” Lydia said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

* * *

 

Stiles was freaking the fuck out, to put it bluntly. He hadn’t stopped pacing for a good fifteen minutes, mumbling to himself the entire time. His hands kept returning to tug at his hair and Derek was worried he’d pull it all out.

The pack had begun to voice their incredulity as soon as Lydia had spoken but a low growl from Derek had instantly silenced them. The only sound now was that coming from Stiles trainers on the floor. Derek checked the time and sighed. This had gone on long enough. He stood and reached out to gently shake Stiles’ shoulder but the teenager whipped around with wide eyes before he could make contact.

“I made the mountain ash meet,” he said in a reverent tone.

“What was that, buddy?” concern filled Scott’s voice.

“I made the mountain ash meet!” Stiles repeated.

At the bewildered looks on the pack’s faces, he sighed and turned to face everyone properly.

“When we were trying to catch Jackson-the-kanima, Deaton asked me to make a barrier of mountain ash around the club but I didn’t have enough. So I closed my eyes and walked the rest of the path and, suddenly, the loop was closed!” Stiles mimed. “I made the mountain ash meet!”

Derek sat down again and Lydia reclined in her seat triumphantly. Stiles looked at the other pack members imploringly, hoping they’d understand.

“It… It makes sense,” Allison shrugged “If Stiles could connect to the natural magic in the mountain ash, he could make it adapt to his needs. He wouldn’t need to know he’s a Spark if he didn’t really understand what he was doing.”

“OK… So Stiles is the Spark and those witches are after him,” Scott summarised. “Obviously, we can’t let that happen so we’ve gotta figure out how to stop them.”

“Stiles, you should speak to Deaton. He’ll know how to help you control your powers,” Boyd suggested, always the voice of reason.

“But I’ll have to do research on these witches! You guys don’t understand the system!” Stiles protested.

“I do. You told me about it once, remember? And Allison will give me a hand, won’t you?” Lydia smiled at her in a way that clearly said she could not refuse.

The conversation began to deteriorate into a delegation of tasks and errands. It appeared that Stiles _would_ go to Deaton for training after lunch, despite how loudly he protested.  Stiles settled into a sulk in the corner of the couch, as far away from Derek as possible. It all felt like it was his fault somehow. Derek always seemed to know more about the supernatural than he let on. He _knew_ that Stiles was the so-called Spark but hadn’t told anyone. He hadn’t even told _Stiles_ last night!

“Stop pouting. You look like a child,” Derek snarked.

“Better than looking like one giant eyebrow,” Stiles muttered.

Derek snorted and shoved him as he stood to go into the kitchen.

“Be nice or I won’t order any curly fries for lunch.”


	5. Chapter Five

After eating his fill of curly fries, Stiles reluctantly climbed into his jeep and began to drive towards the clinic. Deaton had been made aware of what had happened last night and was expecting him. While Stiles had adjusted to the idea of himself being the Spark, he was still incredibly nervous about what his powers meant. He’d never wanted any sort of power. That’s why he’d never asked Scott for the bite. However, as long as he did have these… _abilities_ , he could use them to the pack’s advantage.

“Ah. Stiles. You’re here,” Deaton gave him a small smile.

“Yup. And I’m, uh, ready to learn whatever it is you can teach me! Now I’m not entirely sure what I _can_ do but I promise I’ll try _real_ hard, Dr Deaton. I’ll be the best Spark you’ve ever seen, I swear!” Stiles grinned.

“Of course,” Deaton raised an eyebrow magnanimously at him.

Stiles followed the vet into the back room where he could see several bottles containing various magical elements lined up on the counter. He knew some of them from previous experience (mountain ash, mistletoe etc.) but he had no idea what the majority of the bottles contained.

“Right so how do we start? Are you gonna teach me how to make like mistletoe bombs or throw fireballs or what?” Stiles bounced on his toes.

“I’m going to teach you how to meditate.”

Stiles visibly deflated. Meditation? Therapists had tried to teach him that several times over the years to try and improve his focus. It never worked. And meditation was nowhere _near_ as fun as throwing fireballs.

“Uh… OK then. Let’s start, shall we?”

Deaton nodded and placed a candle on the table in front of Stiles. Once the candle was lit, he turned off the lights and moved to stand in the shadows God that guy could be creepy.

“Stiles. I want you to focus on the candle. Look at the light. See the different colours in the flame. Notice the way it moves and flickers.”

Stiles nodded and stared at the candle.

“Now wave your hand through the flame. Feel the heat. The energy.”

Stiles did as he was told and watched the flame dance as he waggled his fingers through it. The flame was warm against his fingertips but when he moved his hand away, he could feel a tingling sensation running up his arm.

_What’s that? It feels familiar but… new._

“You’ve always felt that energy. It’s only know that you know what it means that it feels different,” Deaton said as if reading his thoughts. “Now. Blow out the candle.”

Stiles hesitated before blowing out the candle and plunging them both into darkness. Strangely he could still feel that tingling. But it wasn’t in his hand that he could feel it. The sensation was coming from the unlit candle in front of him. It was as if he could still feel the heat from the flame.

“Light the candle.”

Stiles frowned and waved his hands uselessly. Just light the candle, Stiles. Like it was the easiest thing to do. How on earth was he supposed to just _light the candle_? Just _think_ it into being lit?

“Feel that energy. Allow it to move into you. And then light the candle.”

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, steading breath. He reached his hand forward until he could feel that tingling sensation in his fingertips. He tried to focus on that energy and allow it into himself but nothing happened.

He needed to think about it all in a different way. His case board in his bedroom suddenly came to mind and he could _see_. A ball of red string hovered above the candle and Stiles imagined pulling the end of the thread closer to himself. He wrapped the string around his hand and envisioned the candle lighting itself.

“Well done, Stiles,” Deaton smirked.

Stiles opened his eyes and gasped. It had worked! The candle was lit!

“I can’t believe I just did that! I just lit a candle _with my mind_!” he grinned “When can I start throwing fireballs?”

* * *

 

After learning some basic defensive spells, Stiles left the clinic feeling a thousand times better about the whole Spark thing. At least he could defend himself and the rest of the pack when the witches came by again.

Before heading home, Stiles picked up some groceries. His dad deserved a good home cooked meal. As he packed the groceries into the jeep, he felt a hand caress his shoulder.

“What the…?” he yelled, arms flailing.

The two witches were stood behind him, their dresses billowing despite there being no wind. Their hands were entwined and Stiles could see black string wrapped around their free hands. The string was draped over the two witches, linking them inseparably. It was like their magic was amplified when they were together.

“We just want to talk to you, Stiles,” witch number one crooned.

“Yeah well, I don’t wanna talk to you,” Stiles glared at them.

“We see you’ve learned to tap into your spark,” she continued.

“With us, you’ll be able to do _so_ much more,” the second witch purred.

“Just get outta Beacon Hills,” Stiles scowled.

“If you come with us, we can teach you how to rip the scream out of your little banshee.”

“We can make you so powerful you could drain the power of even your true alpha.”

“You know nothing about my pack!”

“Oh but we do,” they sang in unison.

“If you do, then why haven’t you done those things already?” Stiles suddenly understood, “It’s because you can’t. Even when your magic’s combined you just _can’t_.”

The angelic smiles on the witches faces instantly turned into sneers but as far as Stiles could tell, they weren’t going to attack. Not just yet.

“I’m going to get in my jeep now. I’m going to drive away and you’re going to leave this town,” Stiles sounded much more confident than he felt.

As he turned the key in the ignition, the witches moved to stand in front of the jeep.

“If you do not join us in three nights, we will destroy your pack. We’ll be waiting in the woods,” the witches chorused.

Stiles set the jeep in reversed and sped off. It was only once he was sure he wasn’t being followed that he allowed himself to slow down. He took several deep breaths and raked his fingers through his hair in order to calm his racing heart.

This was perfect. Just perfect.


	6. Chapter Six

“You can wash up since I did the cooking.” Stiles grinned at his dad across the table.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head, relishing in the pop in his shoulders. The Sheriff rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. Stiles had to admit, he made a pretty mean vegetarian stir fry (he had to keep his dad’s cholesterol down).

“Anything planned for this evening then, son?”

“I’ve got a load of supernatural research to do.”

The Sheriff paused with his glass part-way to his mouth.

“Do I want to know?”

Stiles gave him a look.

“Does it affect Beacon Hills?”

Stiles shook his head before he stood up and placed his plate in the sink. With a wave to his dad, he headed upstairs to take up his customary position hunched over his laptop at his desk.

“You’re going to have a hunchback by the time you’re twenty-five,” Derek snarked.

Stiles jumped out of his skin (and onto the floor) and clutched at his chest. Derek was hovering in his open window like Edward freaking Cullen. Well, Jacob would be more appropriate. After getting over the shock of having a werewolf sneak into his bedroom, Stiles was surprised to realise it was completely dark outside. A quick glance at his watch alerted him to the fact that he’d been researching for over four hours.

“Why’re you here?” Stiles frowned.

“So polite. Do you greet all your guests this way?”

“When they sneak into my bedroom uninvited in the middle of the night I do!”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed. He dumped a small bag at his feet before leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“What’ve you found out about the witches?”

Stiles chose to ignore Derek’s lack of response to his question and charged into an account of what had happened at the clinic with Deaton and the confrontation with the witches. He was just about to start describing the new information he’d gathered through his research when Derek sprang to his feet.

“They came after you? When you were alone? What were you thinking?! Why didn’t you call me?!” Derek admonished.

“Well, I don’t actually have you phone number…”

Derek snatched up Stiles’ phone and began to type his phone number into it as he paced his room. The werewolf was grumbling under his breath and Stiles was certain he’d caught the phrase ‘rip their throats out’ tangled up in there.

“They could have _taken_ you,” Derek growled.

Stiles was taken aback. He’d never actually heard Derek _growl_ at him before and, he had to admit, it was super hot.

“Well I think they just wanted to suss me out after last night. You know, see if I’d come willingly.”

Derek tossed Stiles’ phone onto the bed and continued to pace. His hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched and it was obvious he was trying to control his temper. He exhaled slowly before speaking again.

“When did they say they were going to come for you again?”

“In three nights. They said they’d be waiting in the woods.”

Derek exhaled again.

“Fine. Text Scott the date. We’ll just have to prepare for then. It’s a good thing I brought this,” he said, nudging his bag with his foot.

“Uh, yeah? What’s in the bag?”

Derek sat down on the edge of Stiles’ bed and brought the bag up onto his lap before beginning to take things out of it.

“Are those… pyjamas? Is that an overnight bag?” Stiles spluttered.

Derek chose not to answer. Instead he began to pull off his shirt and get changed. Right there on Stiles’ bed. Stiles quickly averted his eyes and stared at his laptop screen. Derek freaking Hale was sat on his bed half naked. And he’d brought an _overnight bag_.

“So, you’re staying then?” Stiles’ voice came out at a higher pitch than normal.

“Well, it appears you can’t be left on your own for even half an hour without getting jumped by witches, so yes.”

When Stiles finally felt it was safe to turn around again, Derek had changed into a pair of grey sweat pants and a white tank top. _Couldn’t find a tighter shirt, huh?_ he thought with irritation. How on earth was he supposed to conceal his attraction towards Derek with… _that_ in his room.

“You were about to tell me what you learned about the witches?” Derek questioned.

“Yeah. Before you had your little freak out over there,” Stiles waved a hand in Derek’s general direction.

The Eyebrows twitched in response. Honestly, it was almost an artform.

“Well, I did some digging on the witches. A little hard since we don’t have any names but I’m awesome so I managed to find out a fair bit.”

Derek snorted but motioned for Stiles to continue.

“Their names are Demeter and Minerva and there are eyewitness accounts dating back centuries. Now, this is the not so nice bit. They’re famous for kidnapping natural magic users, often as children, and training them in how to use their magic. Then, once the kid is loyal and fully trained, they drain the magic from them and… eat their heart.”

Derek growled again and gripped the bedsheets tightly.

“They are _not_ getting their hands on you.”

“The good thing is, I think I’ve figured out how they draw their power. Their magic is connected to each other so if we manage to separate them, they’ll be weaker.” Stiles glanced at his notes on his laptop before continuing “Now I’m going to have to check this over with Deaton, but there may be a way for me to drain their magic and return it to the earth.”

Derek frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. They were both silent for a moment before he spoke up.

“You think it’ll work?”

“Well, the spell looks pretty legit. The question is whether or not I can pull it off.”

Derek was silent again. A good few seconds passed and Stiles began to fidget in his seat. His fingers itched for something to do.

“You did good work, Stiles. Now you’re going to need some sleep if you’re gonna learn this new spell tomorrow.”

Derek stood and closed his laptop. He tossed a pair of pyjamas at Stiles and motioned for him to get changed.

“I can’t get changed with you watching,” Stiles blushed furiously.

The Eyebrows twitched again but Derek obliging turned around with his arms folded over his chest. Stiles quickly stripped out of his clothes and pulled his pyjamas on. It was the quickest he’d ever gotten changed in his life.

“Right. Uh, done,” he said awkwardly, barely resisting the urge to do jazz hands.

Derek turned back around and nodded before climbing into bed. Into _Stiles’_ bed. Apparently, they’d be sleeping together again. Well not _sleeping_ together. They would both be asleep. Together. In Stiles bed. Again.

Stiles hesitantly climbed into bed and Derek’s arms surrounded him almost instantaneously. He found it easier to relax and calm his breathing this time and even managed to pretend to be asleep despite being wide awake. With no recent near-death experiences to tire him out, Stiles just wasn’t sleepy.

“I’m not going to let them take you. God, if they got you, I don’t know what I’d do,” Derek said softly after a while.

Stiles wasn’t sure if he was really speaking to him or not. He _was_ pretending to be asleep after all. So Stiles made no response. Derek tightened his arms around him, pulling Stiles’ back against his chest. It was… nice wasn’t the right word. It was… perfect. His skin was on fire at every point they were touching and he could hear Derek’s breath hot against his ear but it was perfect. An indeterminable amount of time passed, and Stiles eventually succumbed to the soothing rhythm of Derek’s heartbeat against his back, slipping slowly into a doze.

“I promise you, Stiles. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not when he heard Derek’s voice again, but the words rumbled pleasantly in his chest and settled next to his heart.


	7. Chapter Seven

Derek left in the morning as soon as Stiles woke up and the following night passed in much the same way. Derek let himself into Stiles’ room via the window, changed into pyjamas and settled into bed as if he owned the place. Stiles was convinced that even when Derek left, he could still catch his scent lingering in the pillows. Obviously, it was no where near as strong as what Derek would be smelling but Stiles knew it was something… not-Stiles but which smelt familiar and comforting all the same.

While Stiles outwardly felt irritated by Derek’s blatant baby-sitting, he came to enjoy the evenings they spent together. Derek’s dry humour was a comfort against the underlying current of fear. And falling asleep in his arms was heavenly. He was almost upset that this would all end once the witches were gone.  
Shit, he was really falling for the sourwolf.

* * *

 

Stiles had spent the last two days training at the clinic, working on the new spell. While his magic was improving immensely, Deaton was convinced he’d never be able to pull it off without an anchor. Stiles understood that werewolves had anchors that helped them control their shifts under the full moon but he wasn’t sure they were really applicable here.

“You can’t just let the magic take over with this spell. Defensive magic only involves an idea and the magic takes control. With an offensive spell, you need to be aware enough to properly direct the magic. Not only that, in this instance you need to direct magic that has already bound itself to someone else.” Deaton had said when they’d first started training.

“What, so I need an anchor to stop the magic completely taking over?”

“Exactly.”

They only had a few more hours before nightfall so the whole pack was gathered in the back room of the clinic. Scott was in alpha mode, checking that everyone was ready.

“If we’re going to separate the two witches, we need to split into teams. Erica, Boyd and Lydia, you take Demeter. Allison and Isaac, you’ll take Minerva with me.”

“What about Derek?” Stiles asked. It seemed foolish to leave their best fighter out of the running.

“I’m looking after our Spark,” Derek said. The unspoken ‘obviously’ was loud and clear.

“Perfect. Derek, you’ll be Stiles’ anchor,” Deaton said before Stiles could respond with a witty remark.

“But uh… Aren’t you supposed to be like… romantically involved with your anchor?” Stiles hoped the panic wasn’t evident in his voice.

Deaton blinked slowly before continuing as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“Obviously, you’ll be physically close to Stiles tonight but that might not be enough. Physical contact might be needed for you to truly anchor him and stop the magic from completely taking over.”

Derek nodded and Stiles looked around the pack. Why did they keep making decisions without him? It’s just rude at this point.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek sighed.

“I… I didn’t say anything!”

“You think loud.”

Stiles grumbled and sent a pencil flying at his head with his magic. Derek caught it of course and very deliberately snapped the pencil with one hand. Stiles gulped but Derek only smirked back.

* * *

  
They were stood on the edge of the precipice looking out over Beacon Hills. Erica and Boyd were scouting the perimeter of the clearing, waiting for the witches to appear. Stiles shifted anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek muttered.

Stiles glared at him and started to pace back and forth. He could tell he was starting to irritate the rest of the pack but he couldn’t care less. If witches were coming after them to steal their magic and eat their hearts, he would be perfectly understanding if they were a little nervous.

“There’s nothing yet,” Boyd shook his head as he jogged back into the clearing.

“Those bitches haven’t turned up yet. Are we all ready over here?” Erica asked.

“Almost,” Isaac shrugged.

Allison’s fingers were itching for her bow and Stiles could hear Lydia clearing her throat. Everyone was just hoping for this to be over already. The longer they stood there waiting, the more nervous everyone got.

“Shouldn’t you all be, uh, wolfing out some time soon?” Stiles asked.

Derek let his eyes flash blue and gave him an extra toothy grin but made no other change whereas Isaac and Erica instantly shifted into their werewolf forms. Scott sighed at their impatience but followed suit, his eyes glowing red. Boyd followed the alpha’s lead while Derek rolled his eyes.

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. He felt for the magic in the earth and gently tugged at the red string surrounding him, just to reassure himself that he still could. Then he felt it. Like a change in the air.

“They’re here,” Stiles’ voice echoed in the silence.

The witches emerged from the trees, hand in hand. Stiles could see the black string surrounding them. It was more firmly tied around their hands compared to the last time he’d encountered them. It was as if they were preparing themselves to use it this time.

“Tell the dogs to leave and come with us,” Demeter called.

Derek’s claws descended and Stiles heard a low growl come from behind him. Allison drew her bow and the rest of the wolves bent into a low crouch, ready to attack.

“It seems we may have to take you by force,” Minerva sighed.

Scott and Isaac surged forward towards Minerva while Erica and Boyd moved to attack Demeter. As soon as they moved, the witches waved their arms to the sides, throwing the wolves against the trees. As the witches stalked towards Stiles, Derek shoved Stiles so he was behind him.

The witches just kept on coming, despite the rest of the pack charging into the fight. Stiles tugged on that red rope of magic and pulled it towards himself. He created a shimmering barrier between Derek and the witches, intending to shield him from as much harm as possible.

Allison finally let one arrow fly. It exploded in a flash of blinding light on impact causing the witches to let go of each other’s hands to shield their eyes. As soon as they’d let go, Lydia used her hands to direct her scream at Demeter. The witch flew backwards but caught herself before hitting the ground.  
The rest of the pack were busy keeping the two witches apart while Derek kept herding Stiles out of the path of whichever witch was closest. All Stiles could hear was growling and Lydia’s screams. In the dark, it was difficult to see anything save the glowing eyes of the pack and Allison’s exploding arrowheads. It was all a little overwhelming if Stiles was honest.

“Now, Stiles! The spell!” Derek yelled over his shoulder.

Stiles nodded and took a steadying breath. He envisioned pulling that red string of magic towards himself and wrapping it around his hands. Tighter and tighter. He allowed the magic to flow through him and focused on the trailing ends of string. They spread out away from him and Stiles could feel the earth’s magic. Lighting a candle or throwing a pencil is one thing but this… He’d never felt so much magic.

Stiles took a step forward and reached an arm out towards the Demeter. The red magic of the earth tangled with her stolen black magic until he could no longer see where one string ended and the other began. The more he pulled her magic towards him, the darker his own string became. It was as if her magic was… tainting him. Despite the clear skies, a clap of thunder sounded and a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree. Not that Stiles noticed it.

The hairs on his arms stood on end and he could practically feel the sources of this stolen magic. It was as if the magic was talking to him. Showing him the people who had once wielded this magic. Some were Sparks like him while others were emissaries or the children of druids. But despite everything, the magic was loyal to the witches. Stiles could feel it resisting him even as he drew the magic closer to himself.

A growl of frustration erupted from his throat and Stiles reached towards Minvera’s magic. As he dragged the writhing mass of black string away from her, the resistance began to subside. It was obeying him. The more magic he drained from the witches, the stronger he felt. He felt so powerful.

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice sounded far away. “Stiles, let it go!”

Stiles blinked, trying to see past the haze of magic.

“Come on, Stiles! Come back. Come back to me, Stiles!” Derek urged.

Stiles could feel nothing but the magic. It was beginning to take over completely. It was consuming him. He pulled the magic further into himself, relishing in the rush of power.

Derek was pleading with him but he wasn’t sure if Stiles could hear anymore. Derek took his hand and placed it against his chest.

“Feel my heartbeat, Stiles. I’m right here. Come back to me, Stiles…”

The haze began to clear but he could still feel the magic in every part of his body. Stiles looked down at himself and at the thick black ropes snaking around his body. Then he looked at his hand against Derek’s chest. He could feel the werewolf’s heart beating angrily against his palm and his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Derek?”

“I’m right here, Stiles. It’s OK. Let it go, Stiles. It’s OK. You can let it go.”

The note of panic in Derek’s voice disturbed him more than the furious pace of his heart. What was he doing? This was wrong. The power was all too similar to that of the nogitsune. He had to let go.

Stiles tightened his grip on Derek’s shirt and unclenched his free hand. The magic began to trickle away back into the earth. The power-crazed fog in his mind lifted as more magic left his body. His vision returned to him slowly and he could finally see Derek again. They were standing so close together, they were practically sharing the same breath.


	8. Chapter Eight

The witches screamed upon realising they could no longer connect with the magic they’d been siphoning off others for so long. As Stiles finally tore his gaze away from Derek and looked properly at the witches, they seemed to age before his eyes. It was as if they were reverting to their true appearances without their magic to sustain them. Their once vibrant hair turned grey then an almost blinding silver. Their bodies, once beautifully slender became almost skeletal. The witches clutched each other tightly and uttered a single soul-penetrating scream before they fell to the ground. It appeared their magic was the only thing still keeping them alive.

The rest of the pack jogged over to Stiles and Derek, gingerly holding their various injuries. Stiles was pleased to notice that no one was mortally injured. He looked up at Derek and quickly dropped his hand as if burned.

“Everyone who’s injured, head to the clinic. Deaton will patch you up. We’ll meet again at the loft in the morning,” Scott said, one arm gently supporting Allison.

The pack nodded and everyone began to separate. Stiles hopped into the jeep and was only mildly surprised to see Derek climbing into the passenger seat. He drove back home in silence save for the occasional rumble from the jeep’s engine. It was oddly reminiscent of that first night after the witches. It felt like forever ago.

Stiles opened the door to climb out when Derek grabbed hold of his wrist. He gently pulled Stiles back into the jeep and held him in place. Derek’s gaze burned into his eyes and suddenly the jeep felt very small.

“Do you need me to come in?” Derek said softly.

Stiles shook his head a coughed.

“Use the window. My dad’s probably seen my note and is going crazy…”

Derek nodded and released Stiles’ wrist. Stiles could feel his eyes on him as he left the jeep and knocked on the front door. The door had barely opened when Stiles was dragged into a bear hug by the Sheriff, but Stiles hugged his dad back just as tightly.

“It’s good to have you back home safe, Son,” the Sheriff sighed. “But, ‘I’m off to fight witches. Be home late’? If you ever leave me a note like that again I will put a bullet in your leg, I swear to God!”

Stiles chuckled wetly and rubbed at his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

His dad pulled away to look him in the eyes for a moment. There was no real anger in his eyes, just relief.

“You look exhausted, Son. Get to bed and I’ll come and get you in the morning. We are going to talk,” the Sheriff commanded, ruffling Stiles’ short hair.

Stiles nodded and began to drag himself up the stairs.

“It’s all over now, right, Son?”

“They won’t be coming back, Dad. I promise.”

The Sheriff nodded and allowed Stiles to go to bed. Once out of sight, Stiles hesitated outside his bedroom door. Why, he didn’t know. When he finally opened the door, he could see Derek awkwardly stood by the window as if he hadn’t moved since climbing through. Before he would have just sat down as if he owned the place but now he looked… vulnerable.

“How’s the Sheriff?”

“He’s a little freaked but he’ll be OK.”

Derek nodded and suddenly sprang forward as if he’d been holding himself back. He wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles’ waist and held him tight against his chest. Stiles could feel him trembling and Derek’s breath came in hot bursts against his ear. Derek rubbed his cheek against Stiles’ neck and it felt wonderful despite the scratch of his stubble.

“D-did… Did you just scent mark me?” Stiles asked.

Derek suddenly let go and jumped back as if he’d been electrocuted. The tips of his ears were burning red and Derek wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m just glad they didn’t take you. You’re pack, Stiles.”

Of course. They’re pack, that’s all. But the way Derek was just stood there, itching to come closer… It felt like more. Their dynamic had changed over the last few days. Stiles felt closer to Derek than anyone, even Scott. This feeling couldn’t all be one-sided, could it?

Stiles took a step forward into Derek’s space, reading his face for any signal he was taking this the wrong way. He slid his arms around Derek and turned his face into his chest. Derek hesitantly reciprocated the embrace and sighed with relief.

The warmth of Derek’s arms and his steady heartbeat calmed Stiles instantly. For the first time since he’d encountered the witches, he felt safe. This felt right.  
“Stay tonight?” Stiles’ voice was muffled against Derek’s chest but he was sure the werewolf heard him anyway.

Derek placed his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and gently pushed him away. A small smile ghosted across Derek’s lips and he nodded. They moved around each other almost effortlessly as they changed into pyjamas and settled into bed. Derek pulled Stiles close against his chest and buried his face in Stiles’ neck. He inhaled deeply and rubbed his cheek against Stiles’ skin, leaving a faint stubble burn in his wake.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For everything. For staying with me. For saving me,” the dark made it easier for Stiles to voice his thoughts aloud. “For being my anchor.”

“Well, it makes sense. I mean, you’re my anchor,” Derek whispered “I’d hoped once you realised what you are…”

Stiles rolled over in Derek’s arms until they were lying face to face. He couldn’t see the werewolf’s face in the dark but he could feel Derek’s breath against his lips.

“Don’t say stuff like that if you can’t back it up,” Stiles said softly. “For fuck’s sake… You know I’m in love with you, right?”

Derek made a choking noise and stroked his hand up Stiles’ side to his cheek. Derek cradled his head in his hand and pressed his forehead to his.

“See, if I’d known that sooner…” he breathed “Jeez, Stiles… I love you. You’ve been the one real constant in my life. I know I can trust you with anything. I’ve been trying to keep your stupid ass safe all these years and you always manage to get yourself in trouble but if I’d known…”

Stiles wasn’t sure what took over him but his lips were suddenly on Derek’s and he felt like he was falling. And then Derek was kissing him back. He thought this would feel awkward or he’d use too much teeth or headbutt him or something but this… kissing Derek felt like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like this was what his lips were made to do. He could stay in this embrace for years.

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is 100% smut so if you're not into that you can skip this chapter no problem. If you like this sort of thing, enjoy ;)

Stiles sighed unhappily when Derek’s lips left his, but the sound soon turned to one of pleasure when Derek began to kiss his neck. Stiles arched his neck to give him more room and Derek gave little nips and sucks, worshiping the skin he found there. When Derek gently scraped his teeth across his throat, Stiles let out a whimper that would have embarrassed him at any other time. A throaty growl erupted from Derek who sank his teeth into Stiles’ neck.

“Yes,” Stiles gasped, knowing the implications of this gesture.

This only spurred Derek on. He sucked and nipped at Stiles’ neck, clearly intending to mark him, to claim him as his own. Stiles had thoroughly researched werewolves so he knew the significance of scent marking and neck biting for Derek, which only increased his pleasure.

When he was finished, Derek flashed Stiles a toothy grin, as if satisfied with his handiwork. Stiles pushed the werewolf onto his back and straddled his hips, relishing in the look of adoration in Derek’s eyes. Stiles leaned down to kiss him and tangled his fingers in Derek’s dark hair. Derek whimpered when Stiles worried his bottom lip between his teeth and grabbed Stiles by the waist.

He ground his hips down against Derek’s, eliciting a sinful groan from the werewolf. Stiles gently tugged at his hair before sliding his hands down Derek’s body to pull at the borderline-offensive tank top he was wearing.

“Stop!” he hissed “We can’t! The Sheriff’s probably gone to bed by now!”

“Do you want me to stop?” Stiles frowned, suddenly nervous.

He’d never done this before and with Derek… looking like that, he’d probably done it dozens of times. What if he didn’t want this? What if he didn’t want this with him?

“God, no,” Derek growled and pulled Stiles down to kiss him again.

Stiles was grinning so much he kept bumping his teeth against Derek’s as they kissed. Their kisses became sloppy and uncoordinated but the pair of them were enjoying themselves too much to worry about finesse.

“We’ll just have to be quiet, then,” Stiles giggled.

Stiles almost ripped Derek’s tank top in his eagerness to remove it, forcing Derek to muffle his laughter in the crook of his elbow. Stiles took a moment to savour tracing his fingers over Derek’s body, now that he finally could, before diving down to kiss him again.

“May I?” Derek asked, gently tugging the bottom of Stiles’ pyjama top.

Stiles hastily yanked the top over his head but got stuck in the process. However, instead of helping, Derek merely chuckled and played connect-the-dots with the moles scattered across his torso. Eventually, Derek took pity and rescued Stiles, who rewarded him with a wet kiss.

Stiles ground his hips down again and groaned when he felt Derek’s cock firmly pressing back. The friction through clothing just wasn’t enough. He needed more and he needed it like, yesterday.

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Derek gently pulled down the waistband of Stiles’ pyjamas bottoms just enough to allow his cock to spring free.

Stiles thought he’d be embarrassed with his body on display but when he caught Derek’s eye, he only felt empowered. The bright pink head of his cock was steady dripping onto Derek’s stomach but the werewolf appeared to be transfixed. Derek licked his lips and rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, thoroughly covering it in precum.  
Stiles bit his lip to silence the moan that bubbled up from his chest but couldn’t help the whimper that escaped as he watched Derek lick his thumb. As Derek suddenly gripped Stiles’ cock and pumped once, twice, three times, Stiles fell forward and pressed his forehead against his shoulder. He kissed Derek’s neck and shoulder and chest and tried to suppress his moans of pleasure by keeping his mouth busy. He hissed as Derek took his hand away to spit into his palm.

“Wait… I… I want to feel you against me,” Stiles breathed and nibbled at Derek’s earlobe.

Stiles could feel Derek growl more than hear it and leaned back so that he could free his owns straining cock. It was shorter than Stiles’ but much thicker. Stiles aligned their cocks and thrusted clumsily against Derek who groaned despite his silent pleas for Stiles to keep it down.

“Let me,” he smirked.

Derek took them both in hand and stroked his fist loosely up and down their lengths. Stiles’ thrusts began to match his rhythm and he clung desperately to Derek’s shoulders. He was sure that, if he were human, he would have definitely bruised Derek.

Derek kissed Stiles’ neck and began to quicken the pace. Stiles thrust frantically and tiny sobs tumbled over his lips. Derek placed his other hand over his mouth to silence him but Stiles only began to lick and suck at his fingers.

“Come on, Stiles… Let go. Do this for me. I want to see you, let go.”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue and Stiles gently bit down on his finger to stifle the mewling noise that was torn out of him. Stiles knew that Derek could now see him perfectly, despite the dark, and those glowing eyes only enhanced his arousal.

Derek somehow managed to quicken his pace further, thrusting his hips back against Stiles and tightening his fist. Stiles moved his hips wildly, losing all sense of rhythm. His breath came out in short bursts against Derek’s hand. And then his whole body went still as he came with Derek name on his lips.

“Derek… Derek…” Stiles whimpered.

The werewolf simply smirked up at him and allowed his eyes to revert to normal. Derek continued to move his fist around their cocks but slower this time to allow his partner to come down from his high. He began to use his fingers to spread the white stings of cum over his own cock as lubrication, his eyes dark with arousal and Stiles was sure he’d never seen anything more erotic in his life.

“Derek…” Stiles’ body sagged against him. “Derek, I… I want you to use me. Take me.”

Derek gently rolled them over so that Stiles was on his back and took up his position between his knees. He began to thrust slowly against Stiles’ spent cock, his arms bracketing Stiles’ head against the pillow. Stiles wrapped his legs tightly around Derek’s waist, bringing them as close together as possible.

“Take me,” Stiles repeated.

Derek let out a low growl and started to thrust harder, as if trying to push Stiles down into the mattress. His hips moved faster, expertly against Stiles’ stomach while his breath came out in huffs. Suddenly, his eyes flashed blue before Derek sank his teeth back into Stiles’ neck and Stiles could feel his cum hot against his chest. Derek’s hips were still moving furiously and Stiles tangled his fingers in his hair to ground him.

“Does this count as losing your virginity?” Stiles whispered.

Derek’s bark of laughter was muffled by Stiles’ neck but he could feel him grinning against his skin. Stiles reached for Derek’s tank top and mopped them both up with the offensive item before throwing it blindly towards his laundry basket.

“I’d say that definitely counts,” Derek growled. It was almost a purr.

“But you haven’t fucked me yet.”

“Stiles…” Derek groaned “Don’t tempt me. Go to sleep.”

Stiles giggled and Derek flopped onto the bed beside him. Derek rolled Stiles’ over so they were lying side by side like spoons in a drawer. He casually tucked himself back into his sweatpants and gently reached round to do the same to Stiles.

“Fine. You can fuck me next time. But we have to do it at the loft. You’ve got a much bigger bed.”

Derek chuckled and kissed each mole he could make out on Stiles’ back and shoulders. He tightened his arms around Stiles’ waist and sighed contently.

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”


	10. Chapter Ten

“Stiles! Breakfast’s ready! I made loads of pancakes and if you don’t come down I’ll eat them all to myself!”

Derek sprang up out of bed, almost knocking Stiles to the ground in his shock. Stiles groaned and blinked before realising what he’d just heard.

“Shit!” he hissed “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Derek slid out of bed and searched the floor for his clothes. He began to quickly get dressed, pulling his jeans on back-to-front in his blind panic. Stiles fell out of bed and followed suit. He dug around in his drawers for a clean pair of pyjamas and threw those on before scanning the room for any compromising materials.

“Just go, Stiles. I’ll use the window.”

Stiles slid his feet into a pair of slippers and was almost out of the room when he suddenly turned around.

“No. I don’t wanna leave it like this. Not after last night,” he said sadly.

Was this how it was going to end? Derek would run off in the morning and they’d pretend it never happened?

“Stay. Please?”

Derek made an obvious attempt to calm himself before nodding. He stepped forward to place a kiss to Stiles’ temple and gave him a small smile.

“I’ll wait here for you. Now go before the Sheriff gets suspicious.”

Stiles nodded and sped out of the room.

* * *

  
Stiles drummed his fingers against the kitchen table as his dad plated up the pancakes and bacon. He always made too much but Stiles didn’t mind. Normally. But today he wanted breakfast over as quickly as possible.

His dad brought the plates over to the table and sat down opposite Stiles. He looked from the plate, to Stiles’ face and then to his neck before coughing loudly.

“Do you want to tell me something, Son?”

“Tell you something? Like, uh, how you’re my favourite dad?”

“I’m your only dad. I mean something about that thing on your neck.”

Stiles gasped and slapped his hand over his neck so hard he fell backwards off his chair. He casually climbed back onto his seat but kept his hand on his neck at all times.

“Now I know that didn’t happen fighting witches,” his dad raised a knowing eyebrow at him. “Answer me honestly now, Son.”

“I-it’s a l-love bite. It’s a love bite, Dad,” Stiles stammered.

“It’s a bite alright,” he frowned. “Is there somebody in the house other than the two of us?”

“I, uh. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Now from the excessive use of teeth, I’m guessing it was one of your werewolf friends who did it. If they are still in this house, I want them to come downstairs right now.”

His dad leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms expectantly.

“I know you can hear me with your werewolf hearing.”

Stiles heard the stairs creak and slammed his head down against the table in defeat.

Shit.

Derek shuffled slowly into the kitchen with his head down and the tips of his ears glowing red. He stopped a step or two behind Stiles with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I am so s-”

“No, no. You don’t get to speak just yet,” the Sheriff interrupted. “It’s Stiles’ turn to talk.”

Stiles slowly lifted his head off of the table and removed his hand from his neck. He took a deep breath and began to tell his dad everything: his first encounter with the witches, Derek’s 100% platonic sleepovers, his lessons with Deaton, their last encounter with the witches… He deliberately trailed off before mentioning what had actually happened upstairs in his room last night after his dad had left him.

“And then, somehow, this happened,” the Sheriff waved a hand between Stiles and Derek.

“Yes, sir,” Derek apologised.

“Go and get a scarf or something to cover that up, Son.”

Stiles hesitated at first before taking off at a sprint. The Sheriff held his head in his hands and exhaled slowly.

“Bloody witches and Sparks and… Bloody Derek Hale.”

Derek squirmed slightly where he stood and anxiously awaited Stiles return. When he skidded back into the kitchen with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, the Sheriff lifted his head.

“Mieczsyław Stilinski.”

“Yes?”

“Do you love this boy?”

Stiles peered over his shoulder and gave Derek a small smile before answering, “Yeah, Dad. I love him.”

“Hale.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you love my son?”

“Please believe me when I say that I do love Stiles.”

Stiles beamed across the table at his dad who was sat still as if contemplating their fate. Derek squirmed slightly and Stiles began to fidget in his seat. A while later, the Sheriff abruptly rose from his chair and went into the kitchen. Stiles suddenly feared he’d gone to get a knife and waited with baited breath but he simply returned with a third plate of pancakes.

“You’ll stay for breakfast and tell me about these witches. We will have no mention of how you defiled my son and then you can take me to your pack meeting,” the Sheriff grinned.

Stiles loudly let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed slightly in his chair. Derek hesitated before sitting down between Stiles and the Sheriff. He took a small bite and grinned nervously.

“These are delicious, Sheriff Stilinski.”

The Sheriff suddenly burst out laughing. His laughter was so loud it startled Stiles and Derek. The Sheriff was laughing so loud that tears had sprung to his eyes and he had to clutch at his side. His breath came out in wheezes as he attempted to control his mirth but to no avail.

“I can’t believe you fell for that! God, you kids are so gullible,” he chuckled. “I haven’t laughed like that in years.”

Stiles glared over the table at his father and angrily tucked into his pancakes.

“Eat up, Derek. I’m sure you’re hungry after all that witch-fighting,” the Sheriff grinned amicably. “Tell me about this whole thing between you and my son, here.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic exchange so I really hope you enjoyed it! I know I strayed a little from your prompt but I think I included everything you wanted.


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